Why must I hold you only whilst I dream?
by Ms Frosty
Summary: Arnold and Gerald do a research about a poem they heard from the Parrot. Sequel to the episode "Helga's Parrot".


I was in the worst mood when I was writing it, somehow it helped me to raise it up... So I thought that you might like it, if you're in a bad mood...Well, even if you don't, please read it too. This story is a sequel to "Helga's Parrot", I hope you're familiar with that episode, so there won't be any problem for you to understand it...Please review...  
  
Disclaimer: Authors of the episode "Helga's Parrot" are Antoinette Stella, Michelle Lamoreaux and Joseph Purdy. Original character design by Craig Bartlett, don't own anything... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The thunderstorm continued all day, from the early morning, when 4-th grade students of P.S 118 gathered at Mr. Simmons's class, till now, when Arnold and Gerald were sitting in Arnold's room, playing checkers. Silver- gray clouds covered the city like a warm blanket, and scenery from his window reminded him inside the blanket: utter darkness, so the neighborhood buildings could be barely seen. Claps of thunder were replacing each other.  
  
Arnold shivered, causing his hot milk splash a little on his pants. Thought he was never afraid of thunderstorm or anything of that kind. This night was pretty creepy. A sudden creak of the opening door made both boys jump a little from their seats.  
  
"Pretty creepy night. Eh, boys?"- Grandpa said, entering the room. He was carrying a big tray with milk and cookies with himself.  
  
Arnold and Gerald sighed with a revelation, of coarse, they didn't believe in Grandpa's made-up stories about ghosts, vampires, zombies and all that stuff. It was just such an atmosphere of fear.  
  
"Thanks, Grandpa, thought we haven't done with these yet..."- Arnold replied in shaking voice.  
  
"Oh, well, I guess I'll just live the tray on the table, in case, you boys, get hungry."- Grandpa said, making his steps to the computer table.  
  
When he passed above Arnold's red sofa, he noticed some difference, like something was missing, among all the noise in the room and outside. He turned around and began to wonder what it could possibly be, wandering around the room and curiously staring in the direction of sofa.  
  
"Is something wrong, Grandpa?" –Arnold asked curiously.  
  
"Hey, Arnold, I think that something's missing around here, only I can't remember what it is..."  
  
"Oh, maybe you mean the parrot, that recited poetry?"- Gerald asked thorough half-lidded eyes.  
  
"No, no, no, that's not it...um, hey, wait a minute, now I've remembered! Arnold, you've had that green little parrot..."  
  
"Right, Grandpa."- Arnold replied dryly.  
  
"Oh, no. I've told Pookie not to make a parrot pie until today. What are we going to do now?"  
  
"That wasn't Grandma. I took him to the Show and Tell today, so he could conversant his poem to all of us. But when he was coming to end, Helga's lizard jumped over and swallowed him. So we've never known who was the author of that poem."  
  
"That's too bad, Arnold...What was the poem about?"  
  
A sudden avalanche of blush raised upon Arnold's cheeks, he looked like an overripe tomato.  
  
"Oh, don't you get it, gramps? Somebody wrote a poem about how much he's loved...  
  
Arnold, my love, my soultry pre-teen Why must I hold you only whilst I dream?  
  
Will I be forever enslaved by your spell? Why must I worship you and never ever tell?  
  
"Stop it, Gerald!"- Arnold yelled at him. But it seemed like his best friend got carried away, so he continued retelling the poem, hardly controlling his laughter.  
  
Arnold, you make my girlhood tremble, My senses all go wacky, Someday, I'll tell the world, my love Or my name's not...  
  
"So what's the name?"- Grandpa asked.  
  
"We've never heard it, Grandpa, the only thing I heard after was Hel..."  
  
Grandpa smiled slightly and the boys, a sudden pain in his stomach, caused him to wrinkle.  
  
"See, boys, if we could make a parrot pie today, I wouldn't go thorough that raspberry jelly. Sorry, I got to go, if you'll need me, I'll be in my office and remember, whatever you do: do not eat that jelly..."- With that Grandpa stormed out of Arnold's room with a record speed.  
  
Both boys stared into his direction for some time and then continued their game.  
  
"Hey Arnold, sorry about that..."  
  
"That's okay, Gerald..."  
  
"You know, that's still sounds pretty crazy, somebody's really madly obsessed with you. Do you think that's from the pink book of poems we've found some time ago?"  
  
"I don't know, but I guess it could happen..."  
  
"Think about it, Arnold, have somebody ever told you that she loves you? Okay, even just say more than likes you?"  
  
Arnold raised his head in the direction of his skylight, the rain still pounded hardly upon the glass roof, making the illusion like it would collapse at any moment.  
  
"Not really..."  
  
"So, here's your answer: she wanted to tell her about her feelings through the poems, so she won't have to tell you straight into your face. Maybe she's so shy, that she keeps pretending anonymous, maybe she's not sure how do you feel?"  
  
"You're right, but how she's going to know about my feelings if I won't know the name of my secret admirer?"  
  
"Good question, my brother...Let's see, maybe we should remember all the girls in our school, names that start with Hel-?"  
  
Arnold ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something. Nothing was coming to his football-shaped head...nothing, except for Helga. But he decided to push that thought away. He imagined Helga writing all that stuff, he imagined her pronouncing his name in a soft, tender voice. And finally, he imagined her saying: "I love you, Arnold."  
  
"Uh...I don't think I remember, Gerald..."- Arnold said nervously.  
  
"Come on, I can see by the color of your face that you've thought about someone in particular."  
  
"No, I wasn't thinking of anybody...Just Lila..."  
  
"I get it, Arnold, unfortunately for you, there's a little chance that all that stuff was written by Lila. And we have a clue: she doesn't like you- like you, she just likes you."  
  
"Well, maybe she's also shy to tell me about her real feelings for me."- Arnold said with a hope in his voice.  
  
"Where have I heard it before? Come on, Arnold, she knows how much you like her, but get real..."  
  
"Okay..."  
  
"Now, seriously, tell me whom did you think wrote the poem?"  
  
Arnold sighed in annoyance, already predicting Gerald's reaction.  
  
"Helga."- He said quietly.  
  
Gerald stared at his best friend with his eyes wide-opened, unable to say anything at this. The only thing he was able to do was to fell down on Arnold's bed with a full burst of laughter. Seeing his reaction, Arnold smiled weakly at his own idea...  
  
"I can't believe it, Arnold...- Gerald was trying to say through his laugh. - ...You suspect Helga G. Pataki in writing that stupid poem, her, of all people!"  
  
"I can't believe myself, she's the only girl in school, the name that begins with Hel- But seriously, I can't imagine this whole thing being true."  
  
"Neither can I..."- Gerald said, slowly calming down.  
  
Arnold looked into the direction of an empty cage, it brought to his mind some strange memory...  
  
He and Lila were sitting at his comfortable red sofa, looking together at the magazines so they could prepare their National Park Project. Parrot was sitting at the top of his head...  
  
"So, we just got to find the pictures of bears and wolves..."  
  
"...And a map of Yellowstone...Ah, your bird is just ever so sweet, Arnold. Do you know how to talk? Can you say: hello?"  
  
"...Will I be forever enslaved by your spell?"  
  
"What a cleaver bird you are."  
  
"It's like he's saying poems or something."  
  
"Arnold, perhaps you should bring your parrot to school tomorrow, for Show and Tell. Would you like to coversine your little poem for us?  
  
"...Girlhood tremble."  
  
"Oh, you're just ever so dear. Would you tell us more?"  
  
"My soultry pre-teen."  
  
Suddenly Lila said that I pulled her hair.  
  
"Ow, please don't pull my hair, Arnold."  
  
"Huh? I didn't pull your hair."  
  
"Arnold, I know, that you like me- like me, but, please, don't do it again."  
  
"But I didn't, I was just looking at the magazine."  
  
"Girlhood tremble..."  
  
The next moment somebody flicked Arnold's ear.  
  
"Cut it out, Lila."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You flicked my ear."  
  
"I'm certain I didn't do anything of this sort."  
  
"But somebody did."  
  
"Someday I'll tell the world, my love or my name's not..."  
  
Suddenly he heard Lila's screaming and falling on the floor.  
  
"Arnold, there's something strange going on here, just ever so strange, if you don't mind I'd rather finish the report tomorrow, at my house."  
  
"Okay Lila, it' probably dinner time, anyway..."  
  
Wasn't he too preoccupied with chat with little miss Perfect, that he couldn't notice somebody doing all those nasty things with him and Lila? The idea made him feel crazy, somebody have been sitting behind his sofa, pulling Lila's hair and flicking his ear...somebody just wanted to keep the poem in a secret...  
  
"Man, where did you get all that stuff?"- Arnold asked his parrot when he was getting ready to sleep. He didn't get a response. Unfortunately parrots couldn't think for themselves, they just repeated what other people said. Maybe if he could talk for real, he would tell him who was that strange crazy in love poet...  
  
"What's wrong Arnold?"- Gerald asked him, seeing his best friend in frustration.  
  
"Um, there was just something strange the day before. Somebody's been watching Lila and me yesterday when we've been working on our project...I guess I was carried away by talking with her, that I didn't bother to find out who it was."  
  
"Mmm...mmm...Arnold, this secret admirer is a big dilemma, if you really want to find out, you'll have to work hard on that stuff...Let's just observe that place..."  
  
"You mean, the back of my sofa?"  
  
"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"  
  
"No, it's just pretty dusty in there..."  
  
"Fine, then I'll go..."  
  
Gerald lied down on his stomach.  
  
"Are you sure about this, Gerald?"  
  
"Absolutely, there's just got to be something left..."  
  
"Okay, it was your idea, not mine..."- Arnold said, pushing the button on the remote control.  
  
"So, how's it there?"  
  
"Man, Arnold, there seemed to be a hole in the ceiling. Looks like your secret admire decided to take a harder way to escape."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Just give me time...I'm sure about the success..."  
  
Arnold said on the sofa, remaining silent. Five minutes later, he was about to drift to sleep since it was the late evening.  
  
"A-ha!"- Gerald screamed, causing Arnold to jump out of the sofa.  
  
"What is it, Gerald?"  
  
"I've found a trend of hair, let me out and I'll show you!"  
  
Arnold was so exited that it took him some time to press the right button...  
  
"Man, what took you so long?"- Gerald asked a little bit angrily, his face and hair were all covered in dust, but he also seemed to be exited as Arnold, so didn't even notice.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Oh, yeah, here's your hair."  
  
Out of his pants, Gerald pulled out a small trend of blonde hair.  
  
"You sure, got a good eyesight, Gerald."  
  
Gerald didn't say anything; he just nodded at his best friend, trying to dust himself.  
  
"So, Arnold, got any ideas?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Gerald..."- Arnold said, examining the trend of blond hair carefully.  
  
"Yeah, there's probably hundreds girls who's got blond hair..."- Gerald said, yawning.  
  
"Are you tired?"  
  
"Yeah, a little bit. But, don't worry, I really want to know who's your secret admirer, Romeo and I'm not going to bed, until we find out."  
  
"You boys, are sleeping?"- Grandpa's head appeared in Arnold's door.  
  
"Hey, Gramps, there's no time for sleep, we have almost found out who's Arnold's secret admirer."  
  
"Oh, really? Hey, how come you're all covered in dust, Gerald?"  
  
"He decided to make a research in the back of the sofa."  
  
"And how come there's a big hole in the floor."  
  
"Yeah, I know, and there's a big hole in the ceiling in the kitchen. Besides, it's your little ugly friend with pink bow work."  
  
"What?"- Gerald asked in disbelief.  
  
"Are you sure you're saw her, Grandpa?"  
  
"Hey, I may be an old guy, but I still got a good memory, she fell yesterday from the ceiling and landed exactly on the table. I think I'll call that Pataki character for a bill, not only she broke our ceiling, but a table too. Those kids... Well, boys, good night, I think I feel pretty tired today..."  
  
When Grandpa went away, Arnold and Gerald stared at the door for a long time with their eyes wide opened, Gerald broke the silence first.  
  
"Hey, Arnold, do you think it's true that Helga was in your house and..."  
  
"I don't know, Gerald, Grandpa could have also made this up, but this time it sounded like he was telling the truth..."  
  
"That's crazy, Arnold. The name of the poet starts with Hel-, the trend of the blond hair, now your Grandpa says that Helga was in your house yesterday...Don't you think that..."  
  
"Don't even say it, that's not true..."  
  
"Why not? What evidence do you need?"  
  
"I really don't want to talk about right now, Gerald, it's probably late, anyway and I'm tired. Let's discuss it tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"Whatever you say, Arnold..."- Gerald said through half-lidded look.  
  
It didn't take long for Gerald to drift to sleep, for Arnold it seemed impossible. No matter how hard he tried to push that thought away, it somehow was coming back to his football- shaped head. He just didn't want to admit it. It sounded so weird and crazy that he would probably begin to believe in existence of aliens than that Helga was his secret admirer. Tomorrow he'll just try to forget it and make Gerald forget too, thought he doubted that he would just throw it away from his mind that easily.  
  
"Fat chance!"- As Helga would probably say.  
  
He suddenly discovered that he thought about her every day even more than he thought about school, game of baseball or Lila. He smiled to himself. Maybe it wasn't that bad as he thought, maybe it wasn't true at all, maybe it was just their imagination...  
  
The next day, when he saw Helga, he looked at her, smiling, she seemed notice and somehow tried to smile too, thought then she scowled at him again and turned away. Who knows? Maybe it was just how she expressed her feelings for him. Maybe the next day, things would be different...  
  
The end. 


End file.
